Page 10 of Kane

Finally, after an hour, Savannah stepped out of the side stairwell in jeans and a white tank top that had a ruffle around the hem and a little bow just beneath her full tits. Her white-blond hair fell in loose waves down her back, and the locks floated around her as she hefted a tote bag onto her shoulder.

She seemed lost in her thoughts as she walked down the stairs and into the lot. We’d deliberately parked beside her car, and just before she reached it, she saw me, her steps faltering as her eyes zeroed in on my cut.

Her lips parted, but she didn’t even get the scream out.

Edge and Nitro moved fast—clean and efficient. She got in one hard shove of resistance before Edge carefully collared her neck so he could insert the needle that would knock her out. Her body jerked, eyes flaring wide with shock and panic.

And then she slumped.

I caught her before she hit the ground.

Fuck.

She was warm and soft in my arms. Tiny compared to me, barely reaching my chest. Her breathing was shallow, lashesdark against her cheeks, and her plush pink lips were parted slightly.

I swallowed hard. My cock surged behind my zipper like it’d just remembered what blood flow felt like.

Fucking hell. Get a grip, Beckett!

She smelled like lavender and something sweet. Maybe vanilla. Her curves were mouthwatering, from the generous swell of her tits to the flare of her hips and those long legs that I could already imagine locked tight around my neck.

I had never reacted this violently to a woman. Hell, I hadn’t reacted at all in a long fucking time. My libido had gone dormant—like the switch had been flipped off by boredom and responsibility.

But Savannah flipped it back on. Just like that.

I gritted my teeth as I settled her into the back bench of the van, her hair sliding across the leather like a silk ribbon.

Her ocean-blue eyes had burned into me right before she passed out. I couldn’t stop wondering what they’d look like when she came—writhing underneath me, full of need and pleasure, begging for more while I buried myself deep inside her.

Fuck me.

I hissed out a breath and adjusted myself, pressing the heel of my hand to the bulge in my jeans.

“Stand down,” I muttered under my breath. “You don’t fuck bait.”

My cock didn’t care.

When we arrived at the compound, the brother on security jerked his chin up in greeting as he opened the gate and waved us through.

After parking in the lot around the corner from the clubhouse entrance, I lifted Savannah into my arms and stepped out of the van. No one batted an eye when they saw me. Loyalty wasn’t something I asked for. It was something I earned. And even ifthey were curious, my guys knew better than to ask why we’d brought back an unconscious woman.

The plan was to stash her in the spare room off the main floor. It was used sometimes for recovery or isolation. Had a bed, a private bath, and not much else.

But when I carried her inside and crossed the lounge, I didn’t turn left toward the hallways that would lead us to that room.

I turned right.

Went up the stairs.

Down the hall.

Straight to the end.

Right to my fucking room.

It wasn’t a conscious decision. My legs had already made it before my brain caught the fuck up.

This space was different from the other rooms in the clubhouse. As president, I had more of an apartment-type setup. An open layout with a living room area that had two overstuffed couches, a coffee table, and a sixty-inch television. There was also a kitchenette with a small table and a separate bedroom that had an en suite bathroom.